


The Angel

by StrangeMischief



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief/pseuds/StrangeMischief
Summary: It had been harmless really on Stephen’s part, and, in the beginning, he blamed Tony for it.





	The Angel

**Author's Note:**

> As always, enjoy :3

_ The Angel _

In retrospect, Tony should have known. The glances. Handing over the stone. The bone-crushing hug when it was all over, and the snap was reversed. But he brushed it off.

And, now, Tony realized that had been his first mistake.

\---

It had been harmless really on Stephen’s part, and, in the beginning, he blamed Tony for it.

Tony who had, just days after Thanos’ defeat, slipped out of the public eye, saying he was done; retired. He was, in theory, safe. But there was so much that could still happen, so much that could go terribly, horribly wrong, that Stephen could easily rationalize to himself that he needed to check in on the billionaire and ensure all was well. After all, he’d fought tooth and nail to lay down the narrow path Tony would need to tread to bring them all to this one elusive future. The one where there were the fewest casualties. The one where the space-time continuum remained intact. The one where most lived happily. The one where Tony Stark lived happily with the love of his life.

Of _this_ life.

He would check once, Stephen told himself. Just once to make sure Tony was okay, and then he’d leave the man alone, just as he wanted.

And so, just once, in the dead of a stormy summer night, Stephen let his Earthly body rest while his astral self, invisible to the naked eye, quickly made its way upstate to seek Tony out. Just once, Stephen’s shimmering form slipped through walls and settled in Tony’s lab to watch the man reprogram his nano-housing unit while singing at the top of his lungs. 

But then Stephen found peace in hearing Tony work while his astral form meditated nearby and once became twice. He heard Tony laugh triumphantly when he managed to debug his latest suit prototype, and twice became thrice. He saw Tony’s eyes sparkle when he finally finished sketching out schematics for a new brace for Colonel Rhodes, and Stephen stopped count of how many times came after that.

It was only going to be once, but then Tony, unknowingly, had torn that plan to shreds.

And if Stephen were honest with himself, he’d known it’d happen all along.

\---

He had made rules. There needed to be rules.

Stephen would not intrude too deeply on Tony’s life too much – at least not any more than he already was. He never saw the man during the day, in his mortal body, and never sought him out. When visiting in his astral form, Stephen confined himself to only appearing in Tony’s workshop at the Compound and would only do so every month or so. He’d spend a few hours drifting above Tony, ideally watching him tinker away in the lab or meditating silently until Tony finally stumbled off to bed.

It was enough. It was enough just to see Tony. To see him _alive. _It was enough to be near him, if only in these small intervals. It was enough even though Stephen knew Tony was none the wiser – that none of this meant anything to him. Despite it all, it was enough.

Or so he told himself.

\---

After nearly a year of this one-sided routine, Tony started coming down to the lab less frequently. Many times, Stephen would show up and wait in vain for the man to show up, and drift home with nothing to show for his efforts. On the random nights when Tony did enter the lab, he looked drained and haggard, only managing to linger for an hour or two at most before instructing FRIDAY to shut down the lab as he slipped back upstairs to collapse.

Stephen worried about the sudden shift in Tony’s sleeping habits and was tempted to break his self-imposed confinement to the lab to follow Tony upstairs and seek out the source of his waning energy. Was he having nightmares? Had he moved a project upstairs? Had he somehow sensed another’s presence in the lab and no longer wished to be down there?

It eats away at Stephen, and breaking his self-established rules begins to look more and more tempting when one evening FRIDAY interrupts Tony rewiring Peter’s suit with a sleek projection of a wailing infant that appeared before him. “She’s awake again, sir,” she informs Tony, managing to sound regretful as she says it.

Suddenly, it all makes sense.

Tony quickly abandons his work and moves towards the stairs. “Tell Pep I got this one,” he grumbles, taking the steps two at a time. And though he had sworn to himself to not encroach on Tony’s life outside these four walls, Stephen couldn’t fight the curiosity that consumed him.

He follows.

And that’s how Stephen finally met Morgan.

\---

Stephen could vaguely remember Morgan appearing, briefly, when he had skimmed over this timeline on Titan. In fact, if he recalled correctly, she was one of the last things he saw before he was forced to look down a new path. The memory, like many he managed to retain of the fourteen million, was shrouded in hazy, and disjointed – not seeming to fit properly in the other memories of the same timeline.

Though this Morgan was perhaps half a year old, the image he’d retained of her was closer to that of a three or four-year-old if he had to guess. The glimpse of a serenely smiling toddler haloed by a crown of tawny curls was a far cry from this…_tiny_ creature_. _This tiny, _loud _creature_._

She wailed, chubby arms and legs kicking furiously at the air as her father tiredly lifted her from the bassinet, crooning soothing words and bouncing her gently. “Mommy’s sleeping, darling,” Tony whispered to the infant as he walked in a slow circle. “We mustn’t wake her. She’s worse than the Hulk when she doesn’t get enough sleep.”

Tony turned is back to Stephen, continuing his circle, and Morgan’s puffy eyes snapped to Stephen, her cry dying in her throat.

She could see him.

_Shit. _Stephen’s head snapped to the mirror hanging over the changing table, terror grasping him, thinking he’d somehow become visible. But the reflection was void of his glowing form. And yet…Stephen’s eyes drifted back to the infant. She was staring at him in wonder with large, dark eyes. Beautiful chocolate eyes.

Her father’s eyes.

Stephen raised a finger to his lips, and with his other palm conjured sparkling indigo butterflies, their fluttering bodies just as ghostly as his own. They fluttered around Morgan’s head, eliciting a pleased giggle from the child.

Tony, unaware of what had transpired, snorted in disbelief. “I’m glad _you_ think Hulk-Pepper is funny.” He carefully placed the girl back in her bassinet, seeming satisfied with her improved mood, and quietly snuck out of the room.

Stephen lingered long after Tony left, keeping the child quiet whenever she woke while her parents slept soundly down the hall.

The rules would be modified, he decided. If Tony didn’t come down to the lab, he would drift up to the nursery. It only made sense. He only came to the Compound every couple of weeks. He might as well soothe Morgan when she woke so her sleep-deprived parents could catch a bit more sleep.

That would be enough. Or so he still told himself.

\---

“I wondered where you drifted off to so often.”

Stephen jerked, falling to the floor from his crossed legged meditation at the sound of Wong’s disapproving voice. His eyes drifted over to Morgan, who was still sleeping soundly before turning to his friend’s astral projection. He was thankful to be in this form, where his face wouldn’t redden with the shame of being caught. “I was just-”

“Spying,” Wong finished crisply, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been spying on Stark, and now you’re spying on his child! This is a misuse of the mystic arts and _unhealthy. _You can’t be doing this Stephen. You need to stop now before someone gets hurt. I understand that-”

“Nothing!” Stephen broke in sharply, clenching his fists. “You understand _nothing_! I thought it wouldn’t mean anything,” he croaked, turning his face away, humiliated, as his eyes welled with tears. “I thought what I saw would fade away, but they’re all still there, fresh as the day I saw them.”

Wong’s frowned and he raised his hands, fingers twitching in an unfamiliar pattern. “If you need to forget I can always-”

“No!” Stephen hissed, backing away. For a fleeting, crazed, moment he feared Wong would rip the memories from him, regardless of his own wishes. “I need them. Don’t touch them!”

Wong’s hands dropped, his frown deepening as he peered silently at the other sorcerer. “You understand my position,” he finally replied smoothly, already drifting out of the room. “You can do as you wish. I won’t stop you. But know that, in the end, this will make it all the more difficult…” his dark eyes drifted to Morgan, “…for all of you.”

\---

Stephen grew paranoid after Wong caught him lurking in the Stark household and reluctantly cut back on his astral trips upstate. He threw himself back into studying the mystic arts, much like he did in his early days at Kamar-Taj, hoping to distract himself well enough to keep Tony and Morgan out of his mind.

Several months passed between each of his visits, and the hole in Stephen’s chest felt even larger than ever.

It was still enough. Or so he still told himself.

\---

Stephen would have remained ignorant of how quickly time passed had there not been the physical reminders plaguing him at every turn. The white at Stephen’s temples thickened. Tony’s hair was slowly streaking with grey. Peter’s college graduation photos that May sent in the mail were hung on the Sanctum’s fridge. Morgan slept soundly through the night in her toddler bed, the Iron Man plush she clung to barely visible beneath her sea of curls.

But then he slipped into the nursery one night after Tony gave up on removing Peter’s oddly named protocols from FRIDAY’s software – he still wanted to know what the Yeet Protocol would do – and Morgan was sitting up in bed as if she’d been waiting for him.

“Angel,” she grinned in greeting, tiny hand reaching out, clenching around empty air.

Stephen stilled, thrown by the name. Angelic? He, Stephen Strange, who was tattered and worn? Who was scraped and scared from head to toe? Who crept around at night to spy on Tony Stark and his young daughter? Certainly not.

“Morgan,” Stephen replied softly, an inkling of a grin tugging at his lips. “You should be sleeping,” he reprimanded gently. “It’s late.”

Morgan’s nose scrunched just like Tony’s did when he was frustrated, clearly displeased with the notion. “Angel,” she repeated, firmer, reached out again, making a distressed whine when her fingers went through Stephen’s arm. “My butterflies?”

Stephen laughed and nodded, hands already moving in a practiced pattern. “Alright. Just this once.”

And that was all it took to undo the distance he’d placed between himself and the two Starks who had stolen his heart away.

\---

“Can’t you just send him an owl or something?”

Stephen footsteps faltered, and the man stumbled in surprise at the sound of Tony’s voice drifting out of the Sanctum library. He quickly moved up against the wall of the hall, hovering silently in the doorframe of the library as he peered carefully into the brightly lit room. Tony stood with his back to Stephen, his hands shoved in his pocket, as he looked at the obviously agitated librarian.

“Stephen is a very busy man,” Wong sniffed, obviously already tired of the man’s presence. He subtly shot Stephen a withering look over Tony’s shoulder, suggesting he would pay dearly for Wong having to deal with this, before looking back to the scroll in his hands. “Might I suggest sending him an email? I can write the address down for you.”

“An ema-Wong!” Tony barked, outraged. “This is serious! There’s been some sort of-of _demon _haunting my child for months!” Tony’s voice was taut with fear, and his fingers ran through his hair anxiously. “We don’t see anything,” he continued. “As far as I can tell, it only comes at night, long after Pep and I have gone to bed. But FRIDAY starts recording anytime there’s movement in the nursery and Morgan…she just sits up and turns and…the way her eyes _focus, _Wong, and the way she talks, pausing and nodding…There has to be something there! There _has _to be!”

Wong was quiet, dark eyes moving swiftly over Tony’s shoulder again to capture Stephen with a searing glance, leaving the man rigid with petrifying fear. Wong was no fan of what Stephen was doing and would have no qualms with revealing his astral habits if he knew it’d be enough to prevent Stephen from doing it again.

But Wong was also a good and loyal friend.

“Children,” Wong began slowly, as if selecting his words carefully, “are often immune to spell work and charms meant to cloak spirits, aspirations, or what have you from sight. They are often quite old, harmless, and bear no ill-will. Ridding your household of spiritual…_dust bunnies_ is below a Master of stature such as Stephen.”

It was an elegantly put answer. Not quite the full truth, but not exactly a lie either. Stephen mouthed a silent thanks to Wong and made a mental note to buy him a tuna melt next time he went out.

Tony, however, wasn’t as satisfied with the response. “But what do I do?” he persisted. “Hold a seance? Throw around some garlic? Hang a crucifix?”

Wong grimaced and rolled his scroll up with a tired grumble. “Nothing you or I do will make it leave, Stark. It just…you need to…give it time,” he sighed. “It _will _move on, but only if given the time it needs.”

\---

“Petey made me a web trampoline today!” Morgan whispered lowly, dark eyes gleaming with the excitement of having a secret. “Mommy says, ‘no trampoline’ but I did it anyway, and no one saw me.”

Stephen chuckled softly from where he sat on the floor next to Morgan’s small bed. “And if you had fallen?” he probed inquisitively, “What would you have done then?”

“Daddy would have fixed me,” Morgan replied, flippantly, with an eye-roll that would have made her father proud. “He fixes everything. And then you would come at bedtime, make butterflies!” She snuggled deeper under her blankets and curled an arm around her tattered Iron Man plush. “You always come to me.”

Stephen’s smile drooped at the young girl’s words. _You would come. It will move on. You always come to me. It will move on. You would come. _“Morgan,” he sighed, “I can’t always come visit you.”

“I know,” she yawned, voice already heavy with sleep. “Not every night.”

“Not forever,” Stephen corrected gently. “One day…I can’t come anymore. One day we will say goodbye.”

“When I’m big,” Morgan agreed groggily with a weak nod. “I’ll tell you to stop when I’m ready.”

Stephen laughed softly at the girl’s words. “You are so much like him, Morgan, it frightens me,” he whispered, grinning at the snores he got in response. Stephen reached out timidly with one quivering hand and let it drift over Morgan’s loose tawny ringlets, watching his ghostly fingers disappear in her nest of curls. The picture was familiar, one he had seen before and thought of more frequently as she grew older.

It was time.

It was time, and he didn’t want to go. He hadn’t thought she’d wiggle so deeply in his shattered heart, and yet she had. He would miss this. He would miss her…

…almost as much as he would miss _him._

“Goodbye, Morgan.”

\---

It was wrong — all of it.

It was wrong for Tony to hurt. It was wrong for him to feel pain. It was wrong to disregard the world and dig out long forgotten bottles of hard liquor. It was wrong to destroy the SHIELD report in a violent sobbing fit. It was wrong to ignore calls for days while he huddled in the back room of his lab, trying to will away reality. It was wrong to block out Pepper’s desperate pleas for him to come up, if not for her, _for Morgan. _Morgan who wasn’t sleeping. Morgan who shrieked and cried all night for her angel.

It was wrong that Tony saw Stephen’s silent ghost every time he opened his eyes. It was wrong that he wanted nothing more than to launch himself into the man’s arms.

It was wrong for Tony to grieve the death of Stephen Strange, a man he hadn’t seen in years. He had no right to scream. It wasn’t his place to cry.

But he did.

\---

“You mustn’t touch anything Morgan,” Tony warned, giving his daughter a firm look. “I don’t care how interesting it looks. No touching. Wong is a grumpy old wizard and doesn’t like people touching his things.”

Morgan nodded obediently, muttering a soft, “Yes, Daddy.” The young girl tucked her hands under her crossed legs, creating a physical barrier between her and the array of interesting things that dotted the room they sat in. It looked like it had been an office at some point judging by the towering piles of books and the scraps of paper littered with illegible scrawls, but the thin layer of dust that blanketed nearly every surface of the room suggested it hadn’t been occupied in some time.

Morgan’s took deep breaths as her chocolate eyes drifted across the room, savoring the sharp minty smell that filled her nose with each draw. It was comforting and made her brain itch with blank recognition.

“I’m on the verge of losing it, Wong. I’m talking _full mental breakdown. _Her spiritual dust bunny disappeared, and since then it’s been nothing but a series of temper tantrums back to back,” Tony groaned, tearing his gaze from the oddly silent child.

Wong stilled, his cup of tea hovering halfway to his lips, a sorrowful look passing briefly over his usually stoic face. “You wanted her to be rid of the spirit. She is. I fail to see the purpose of your visit.”

“Wong, _look _at her.”

Wong set his tea down and peered at the girl again. She was, admittedly, much quieter than he’d imagined her to be given the small bits of information on her Stephen had relented. He had no doubt Morgan missed her companion, but the matter was far out of his hands. “She seems to be a reasonably healthy child.”

Tony bit his inner cheek in an attempt to prevent a series of highly inappropriate swears from slipping past his tongue. “She’s _quiet._”

“A quality many parents would cherish,” Wong huffed.

Tony glared at the sorcerer and ran a hand down his face roughly. “Come on, Wong! Don’t do this to me! Pepper’s made this all _my _fault, and none of us, including Morgan, are getting any sleep. Can’t you just reach look into a magic mirror, find the creepy thing, and FedEx is back to the house?”

Wong shook his head and resumed sipping his tea. “I can’t do that. He’s moved on.”

“Look,” Tony groaned, “I’d consider it a personal favor if-” Tony broke off suddenly, Wong’s words sinking in fully. _I can’t do that. He’s moved on._ He. _He. _**He. **Understanding slammed into Tony so hard he thought he was going to fall from his seat. Chilly realization twisted through his veins and pooled in his heat, weighing it down until it fell into his stomach like a stone. _He, he, he. _Tony _knew. _He knew, but he needed to hear it, he needed someone to say it to make it true.

“_He’s _moved on, Wong?” Tony’s voice had a hard edge. “Who told you it was a he? Because it wasn’t me, and if I never said that, then you must have _known _who _he _was all along. Wouldn’t you?”

Wong’s face cracked as it became clear the act was up. It was inevitable, but he had hoped it wouldn’t have happened so soon while the wound was still fresh. “Tony,” Wong replied tightly, “It was never for me to say. And now…it would be poor of me to speak of it now.”

The message was apparent.

_Don’t reveal another’s secrets. Don’t speak ill of the dead._

“Morgan?” Tony barked, eyes never straying from Wong’s unreadable face. “Come on. We’re leaving. Say goodbye to Wong.”

Morgan nodded and stood from her seat. Her small hand reached for her father’s hand but faltered just shy of his fingertips. The girl turned, curls swishing behind her, and cast her solemn gaze on the still seated sorcerer. “Mister Wong?” she asked with the heartbreaking softness of someone who’s already lost all hope, “You can’t find my angel?”

Wong’s eyes fluttered closed at the child’s words, and he drew in a ragged breath. “I cannot,” he confirmed quietly, voice heavy with unspoken pain. “He’s gone. I’m sorry, Morgan.”

Morgan’s nodded, eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she reached out to grip her father’s hand tightly. “Goodbye, Mister Wong.”

\---

Pepper left for a three-day conference at five.

Morgan had finally cried herself to sleep sometime after nine.

Tony started drinking on the lab floor across from Stephen’s ghost at nine thirty.

“It was you,” Tony choked out sometime after he lost count of how many swings of whiskey he’d had. “All this time I thought Morgan was chatting it up with an imaginary friend or a-a _dust bunny _ghost, but it was you the whole time.”

Stephen crossed his legs and said nothing.

“Why did you let Morgan see you?” Tony demanded angrily. “Why not me? It isn’t _fair, _Stephen. She got you, _living_, for _years _and I get…I get…” Tony ran his hand down his face, wiping away the tears that had spilt down his cheeks. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

Stephen frowned, but made no immediate move to speak. For a moment Tony figured the spirit would remain silent as he had since appearing and prepared to continue his rant, but, surprisingly, the spirit spoke.

“I needed you to know the truth,” Stephen sighed. “That it was me here all that time. I couldn’t move on until you knew. Now you do.” His bright eyes darkened with sadness, and he stood from the floor. “I can leave now, and you’ll be free of me.”

Tony hastily got to his feet, kicking over the bottle and sloshing his overfilled glass all over his shirt as he stood. “Wait!” he gasped, hand closing around air as he made to grab Stephen’s arm. “Why now? Why didn’t you say something before?”

“What would you have done?” Stephen asked, seeming genuinely curious. “If I had revealed myself to you? If I told you everything I’d seen? What would you have done? I always imagined you’d shout and tell me never to show you my face again.” The ghost’s face crumbled as he spoke, appearing more and more pained as he went. “I couldn’t bear that, Tony.”

Tony ran his finger along the rim of his empty glass. That _did _sound like something he’d do out of gut-instinct, especially when magic was involved. “How many futures did you see?”

The apparition frowned, not seeing how Tony’s question was relevant. “On Titan? Fourteen million, six hundre-”

“No,” Tony interrupted, dropping the glass on the workbench behind him. He stepped closer to Stephen, shivering as the air temperature dropped with each inch closer he came to the spirit. “Not that. Of us. You and me. How many did you see?”

Stephen drew in a sharp breath, his eyes shining with heartbreak. “One million, six hundred eighty…” He trailed off, his voice trembling with overwhelming emotion. “Six hundred eighty thousand, seventy-two.”

Tony turned away, unable to look in Stephen’s eyes. So many, yet not enough. So many chances but… “Not this one. This isn’t what you wanted.”

“No,” Stephen agreed solemnly. “Not this one. But that’s alright,” he continued soothingly, hoping to bring Tony some semblance of peace as he felt his time draw to a close. “Don’t be upset on my account. It was never about me.”

“But it’s not what I wanted either,” Tony choked, fingers tracing the air above Stephen’s upper arm. “So why was this the way it had to be?”

Stephen’s pale hand brushed over Tony’s cheek in a fruitless attempt to wipe away his tears. “You lived,” he whispered brokenly. “I get to see you live and live happily, if only for a short while.”

“Stephen, wait!” Tony sobbed, reaching out and grabbing uselessly at Stephen’s rapidly fading body. “I’m so sorry. I should have said something. You watching from the side-”

“Was enough,” Stephen smiled.

And that was the last of Stephen that Tony ever saw.

\---

Morgan could conjure many things with her tears – an extra spoon of ice cream, a web trampoline, new Captain Marvel footie pajamas – but her angel wasn’t one of them. And without her angel, Morgan couldn’t sleep soundly through the night. The young girl sat in bed long after her father slipped from her room thinking her asleep, elbows resting on the windowsill next to her bed and head propped up by her tiny fists. She stared sorrowfully at the waning moon overhead, wishing dearly that she could see her angel just once more.

_And_ _there! _A single butterfly, luminous and a watery blue, flitted lazily past her window, pausing on the other side of the glass for just a moment before resuming its journey. Morgan watched the creature climbing the moonbeams heavenward until its translucent body disappeared in the glowing moonlight.

And that was enough.


End file.
